


A Question of Forgiveness

by snarky_saxophonist



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, game of thrones
Genre: Gen, Protective Siblings, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-22 23:11:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7457424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarky_saxophonist/pseuds/snarky_saxophonist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Season 6, Episode 9. A quiet moment between Sansa and Jon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Question of Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> I've always loved all the Starks, and I wanted to explore Sansa and Jon starting to build a closer relationship now that they're the only family they can find.

Jon had come to the godswood for a moment of peace after everything that had happened, wanting time to himself to mourn his lost brother and reflect on everything that had happened. To his surprise, he found Sansa already in the godswood, kneeling in front of the heart tree. 

"Sansa," he murmured as he approached, not wanting to startle her. She lifted her head, turning to look at him before rising gracefully. 

"Jon," she greeted, managing a brief smile that looked pained.

"Is something wrong, Sansa?" He asked. Her hands were twisting anxiously in front of her, and she seemed ill at ease.

"I...yes, there is," her resolve seemed to solidify with those words, as she drew her shoulders back and let her hands fall to her sides. She beckoned him over to the nearby log that Ned had often sat on. He lowered himself down to sit next to her, suppressing a wince as his battle weary muscles protested. Sansa remained silent, looking down at her feet and closing her eyes briefly.

"What is it?" He asked gently, concerned at her uncharacteristic hesitation. His sister remained silent, staring at the soft snow by their feet.

"Sansa?" He prompted, putting a hand on top of hers as encouragement.

"I wanted to apologize," she said finally, not meeting his eyes.

"Apologize? For what?" Jon was utterly baffled. They had already discussed her decision not to tell him about the potential arrival of the Knights of the Vale, which stemmed from her inability to know if they were even coming. He could think of no other reason for her to be apologizing, unless she still felt guilty over her cold treatment of him as a child, which he had long since forgiven. 

"It was my fault. All of it. Father's death, and because of that Robb and Rickon's deaths, Arya and Bran's disappearances to who knows where, the Boltons taking over Winterfell, all of that was because of me," she said, her voice strong and clear despite the slight quaver.

"What?" Jon asked dumbly. "Why would you think that?"

Her gaze finally met his, her blue eyes full of pain. "Because it is the truth. Father was trying to get Arya, myself, and the rest of the Northerners out of King's Landing safely, but at the time I thought he was being cruel and robbing me of my chance to marry a prince. I wanted to marry Joffrey so badly, I thought I loved him and that he would be like a knight from the songs. I went to Queen Cersei and told her of Father's plans, and..."  
She swallowed roughly, dropping her gaze to the ground again. "She sent Lannister men after us, which led to Father's murder. Everything that has happened has been my fault, Jon."

Jon pulled his hand back from hers and sat in silence, digesting what Sansa had told him. Being so far removed at the Wall, he hadn't known the exact circumstances leading to their father's death, but Sansa unwittingly being the cause? The possibility of one of their own betraying them, even unintentionally, hadn't crossed his mind. 

Sansa mistook his silence as recrimination, rising from the log. 

"I am truly sorry, Jon. I know I can never make up for what my actions have caused, but know that I will regret it until the end of my days," she said solemnly, turning and walking back to the castle, her shoulders slumped. She was nearly at the entrance to the godswood before Jon snapped out of his shock enough to stand and call after her. She turned to look back at him, waiting as he crossed the godswood to stand in front of her. 

"Sansa, I-" he stopped, frustrated. He'd never been a man of many words, and had no idea how to convince his sister of her innocence. "It wasn't your fault-"

Sansa cut him off, shaking her head. "I appreciate it, Jon, but you weren't there. I assure you, it was entirely my doing."

"Listen to me!" Jon snapped, his irritation growing as he reached out for his sister's arm. Sansa flinched back from his harsh tone, avoiding his touch, and Jon froze in place, guilt twisting his stomach. "I would never hurt you, Sansa," he said softly, stepping back from her and keeping his hands at his sides.

"I know," she murmured, still tense. "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing," Jon told her, carefully keeping his voice level. "You're right, I wasn't there, so I cannot know exactly what happened, but the blame does not lie on you. Joffrey and his mother and Littlefinger are the ones at fault. Even if you hadn't gone to Cersei, the Lannisters would have found a way to stop you from leaving. I'm sure there are spies everywhere in King's Landing; somebody else would have found out and told the queen. There was nothing you could have done to stop anything." 

Sansa shook her head again in denial. "It is kind of you to say that, but-"

"I'm not being kind, Sansa! I'm telling you the truth. The Lannisters and Littlefinger betrayed our father, not you. You're a good person, they are not. We were all just sheltered children back then; we knew nothing of the real world! I'm your brother, I wouldn't lie to you, I swear it. You couldn't have done anything to prevent anything that happened." 

"I could have killed Littlefinger and not married Ramsay Bolton, which helped legitimize their claim to the North," Sansa countered.

"Littlefinger sold you to Ramsay Bolton," Jon struggled to keep his anger at that in check. "Everything that's happened since has been his fault, not yours."

Sansa murmured something too quiet for him to hear, staring at the ground again.

"What did you say?" Jon asked, taking a cautious step forward.

Sansa looked at him, shame written in her Tully blue eyes. "It was my choice, not Littlefinger's."

"What was?" Jon asked.

"To marry Ramsay. Littlefinger told me he wouldn't force me to marry him if I didn't want to, but I wanted to stop being used as a pawn and to get justice for Robb and my mother."

"Did Littlefinger tell you that Ramsay was a monster who thrived on manipulation and causing others pain?" Jon asked.

"No, of course not, but-" Sansa started.

"But what?" Jon snapped. "Ramsay was a monster, Littlefinger is a master manipulator, and both hurt you! It's as simple as that."

"No, it's not!" Sansa shot back, fire lighting in her eyes. "Maybe what Ramsay did to me was the gods' way of punishing me for betraying my family and getting them killed."

"Sansa!" Jon moved forward to take his sister's hands in his own. "No, you cannot think that! Ramsay was a monster; he hurt you because he was a sadistic, twisted man, not because of anything you did. Nobody deserves what he did to you, least of all one as compassionate and giving as you."

"Jon-" Sansa seemed about to argue further, but Jon's bone deep weariness and frustration got the best of him, driving him to cut her off once more.

"Even if by some turn of madness the gods blamed you for our family's deaths, Ramsay is dead and you are alive and bringing good change to the world," Jon reminded her. "The past is the past. You can't do anything to change it now. I can't convince you that you weren't at fault, but at least know that I truly believe you innocent in this."

"I appreciate that, Jon, but I did not want absolution from you. I merely wanted to apologize for the hurt I caused you and all our family," Sansa said softly.

"Thank you, but the apology is unnecessary. You do not bear any blame for these events," it was Jon's turn to drop his gaze in shame. "In fact, perhaps it should be me apologizing to you. I belittled your advice before the battle as obvious, then completely failed to stick to the plan. I got many of our men unnecessarily killed because I didn't heed your warning."

"You were trying to save Rickon," Sansa said, using a gloved hand to lift his head so she could look him in the eyes. "I could never fault you for doing your best to repair our family. You couldn't just leave Rickon to run that whole distance with Ramsay shooting at him, and unfortunately Ramsay counted on that. But as you said, the past is the past now. You needn't apologize to me. We have the North, Ramsay is dead, and we now need to focus on the coming war against the Others."

"No more apologies?" Jon asked with a small smile.

Sansa smiled slightly in return. "No more apologies," she agreed. "From now on, we look to the future. We're Starks, who better to stand this coming war and winter than us?"

"Starks," Jon pulled his sister into a hug. "Whatever comes, we can weather it together."


End file.
